


Rekindled

by Lomesa



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Hero, Disfigurement, Dunlendings - Freeform, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hobbits, Human Smaug, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Mordor, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Orcs, Rohan, Slow Romance, The Shire, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomesa/pseuds/Lomesa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel saves a young girl from a fiery death the night Smaug is slain. Years later they must face the consequences of the decisions they made that fateful day. Will they be able to rekindle a dragon's fire and find a elven prince who disappeared more than a decade ago?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire and Water; Ashes and Mist

# Chapter 1

# Fire and Water; Ashes and Mist

"I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.”

Ursula K. le Guin, _A Wizard of Earthsea_

_***_

Tauriel stood, transfixed, as the dragon plummeted to earth. It became a streak of red and gold illuminated by its inner fire as it fell.

In flight it had been magnificent, in battle terrifying. In death she found it breathtaking. For centuries she had heard tales of the beast beneath the mountain from her elders. They spoke of a creature of darkness, slumbering in its nest of shining gold. In the stories it had been a creature incapable of anything but destruction and greed. She could not prevent the flicker of doubt that entered her mind. The dragon was so bright. The jewels Thranduil desired must pale in comparison to the image in front of her. She blinked, dragon fire caught in her moss green eyes, freed herself from the strange spell.

Bard’s daughters were cheering, teeth white in their sooty faces as they smiled. Their eyes shone brightly in the light of the burning trees that surrounded the lake, their sadness over the loss of their home temporarily forgotten with the defeat of the monster who had burned it.

Tauriel was surprised to find herself smiling along with them.

There were hard times ahead for the people of Esgaroth. They would have to rebuild the town, pick up the singed remains of their old life and accept that which had been irrecoverably lost.

But Esgaroth could rise again, Tauriel thought. Bright and new, refined by the fire that had sought to destroy it.

Next to her Kili shifted his weight to his uninjured leg. The two dwarves were more subdued. Tauriel hoped for their sake that the other dwarves had somehow managed to escape the dragon’s wrath, as unlikely as it seemed. Kili offered her a brave attempt at a grin as he caught her looking at him. He was oddly endearing with specks of ash in his dark hair and his brown eyes warm with an emotion that Tauriel recognized in herself as well. She reached out to touch him, but hesitated. She felt Thranduil’s cold disapproval like it was a physical thing, remembered the silent, forlorn look that sometimes crossed Legolas’ face. Tauriel lowered her hand and clenched it into a fist.

How tired she was of it all! Of Thranduil. Of keeping her distance, of always watching what she said. Of knowing that Legolas felt the same, but would never utter a word of defiance to his father.

And yet he had defied their king to come to her aid…

There was a faint crying in the warm, smoky wind that brought Tauriel back to their current situation. Fili was frowning at her.

“He needs rest. The dragon might be slain, but there could still be orcs about. We-“

“I know of a place near the river. It’s not too far from here,” Sigrid said, interrupting the dwarf and blushing.

“I sometimes went there with father and Bain to help them with the smugg-… well to help them.” Her eyes wandered to Esgaroth and the smouldering remains of the tower from which the black arrow had been fired. Some of the happiness left her face.

“We will go to find them first thing tomorrow morning,” Tauriel said gently. She understood the girl’s fear all too well.

She glanced at the burning town. Movement caught her eye despite the rising mist and smoke. The crying in the wind took on a new meaning. It is only a human child, Tauriel told herself as she watched the tiny figure. “It is not our concern,” Thranduil’s voice echoed. She had already disobeyed her king for the sake of a dwarf and let her prince enter battle alone. Was a little girl’s life worth braving a town that was burning like kindling?

Once, there had been someone who had come for her in the depths of Mirkwood when they had found her parent’s bodies. Her earliest memories were of the endless shadows beneath the trees, of things whispering, waiting. The terrible fear. Of blue eyes, bright after so much time spent in the dark. Strong arms lifting her. Safety. An end to the terrible loneliness.

“Go on ahead to the shelter. I need to do something.”

She was away before they could answer, her eyes set on the small figure silhouetted by the orange flames. The girl was slowly fading from view in the rising mist.

Tauriel made her way towards the town as quickly as she could, mindful of the pieces of the broken bridge which could sink the boat. When her oar hit something yielding in the water she looked over to find a blackened corpse, the skin on its face peeling away from the flesh. The lidless eyes stared up at the sky as it grinned, lips shrunken from the fire.

As a captain of the guard she had seen plenty of grotesque sights on her forays in the Mirkwood that would have left many elven ladies pale, but she could not help but shudder at the sight in front of her. Burning was not a pleasant way to die.

It did not take her long to reach Esgaroth. When Tauriel listened carefully she was able to hear the girl’s crying over the low roar of the fire. Elvish sight was no use in the hellish mist that covered the town and billowed outward over the lake. It was tinted red with the light of the rising sun and the flickering orange flames around it.

“Don’t be frightened. I’m here to take you someplace safe!” She shouted, hoping that the child could hear her. The sound of the girl’s crying quieted, but there was no answer. There was a scrabbling sound that Tauriel turned to follow, hoping that it wasn’t just wood collapsing. She almost walked straight into the girl. She let out a sound that she refused to call a scream.

Tauriel knelt in front of the girl, grasping her around the shoulders.

“Are you injured?” She asked, taking in the child’s appearance. For the most part she seemed unharmed, except for a few burns. The girl tore herself from Tauriel with a cry.

“The light.” The girl pointed to the sky. “It fell. It fell like a falling star!” Her voice was hoarse from breathing smoke, her hair singed and as wild as her eyes as they reflected the light from the fire.

“Light?” Tauriel asked, uncomprehending. The girl nodded enthusiastically. Tauriel looked up at where the girl had pointed and remembered Smaug’s glowing chest and the way the first light of morning had bathed his scales in gold.

“Don’t worry, little one. The dragon is dead. We need to leave this place, come with me.”

“No! It can’t be gone!” The girl backed away further, new tears making pale trails down her sooty cheeks. “The light mustn’t go out!”

Before Tauriel could prevent her the child disappeared through an opening in a collapsed wall. She could hear her footsteps moving down a wooden path on the other side. She would have to find a way around, the opening was too small for an adult and the rooftops were a hazard.

Reluctantly Tauriel started her nightmarish journey deeper into the burning town, blinded by the mist, her grace lost as she dodged glowing wood and stumbled over the occasional dead body of a villager that had fallen victim to Smaug’s wrath. It all seemed vaguely surreal to Tauriel. The redness of the mist, the child’s mad flight and the crying that rang in her ears like an echo. She passed a dead dog on her way. The animal was chained, its body strained toward a channel and the unreachable refuge of the water. It stank of burnt fur. She looked away quickly and walked a little faster.

Tauriel found the girl again near a pigsty. She ran forward, hoping to end the mad chase and bring the child to safety. There was horror in the child’s face as she stared down at the dead pigs. Some of them had burst as they had cooked inside their own skins.

“The babies…” The girl said, her voice shrill with horror.

“They must have been trampled by the adults in their panic.” Tauriel said as she looked at the piglets. “It happens sometimes.” There was a flash of green, green like new leaves, as the girl looked up at her. The colour was startling in the sea of red, orange and black they found themselves in.

She took the girl’s hand and pulled her away from the grisly scene. The girl, however, started pulling in another direction.

“Please! I’m almost there. I’ll come with you, I promise. I just need to see for myself.”

Tauriel nodded, puzzled at the girl’s insistence. Oh, she understood where they were heading. In front of them the buildings where dripping, the wood still hissing like angry lizards. Smaug had fallen not far from here.

She knew what the girl had seen as the dragon had fallen from the sky even though she could not name it. In her innocence the child did not understand that what she saw was only a little thing… And the dragon it was part of held too much evil for that light to overcome.

Still, she allowed the child to lead her by the hand in the mist that kept on growing thicker and thicker.

There was a pale golden glow a little way off. Tauriel let go of the girl’s hand and drew her bow.

The dragon was half submerged and clinging to the smouldering remains of what could have been a block of houses. There were fish floating on the black water surrounding it, boiled by the heat of its body. Tauriel’s lips parted in silent shock. Somehow the dragon had survived the fall.

The golden light from the dragon’s eyes fell on her bow. It snarled, threatening her with rows of yellowish white teeth, sharp as daggers, black blood spraying from its nostrils as it growled. It did not speak. The terror of its own death had robbed it of both words and strength. It lay glaring at her balefully, brought down to the level of a dumb animal. It was humiliated by its weakness, shamed by the she-elf who saw it and would remember his shame all the long years of her life.

Tauriel found herself pitying the creature. It seemed wrong, somehow, for a dragon to die in a lake surrounded by stinking fish and the waste of a human town. She readied an arrow.

Her copper hair turned to fire in the paleness of the mist and the wind sent her hair writhing in the air even as it quickened the hungry fires in the distance.

She was about to shoot when she noticed the girl. The child approached the dragon with a look of mesmerized wonder even as tears streamed down her face. Tauriel stood rooted to the spot, holding her breath in apprehension. The girl showed no hint of fear. It was an agony to watch the girl near the growling dragon with the total disregard only children could have for danger. What was the child thinking? She kept her aim steady. If the dragon moved she would put an arrow through its eye in a second.

Before Tauriel could warn her about the dragon’s blistering hot scales the girl reached out to touch the creature’s glowing chest. To Tauriel’s relief she avoided the black blood that was still trickling from the mortal wound.

Smaug reared his head, despite his weakness, and roared like his heart had been torn from his body. The sound shook the wooden planking Tauriel was standing on and rang in her ears.

The girls fell backwards without a sound. Tauriel was at her side in an instant and drew back with the child in her arms.

The light in the dragon’s chest expanded, turned his black blood to molten gold as it ran from his body. For a moment the great beast glowed like a beacon, every inch of muscle straining against some great force before the light suddenly died down and only the tiniest flicker was left. The dragon exhaled and the little light left with the breath. Tauriel watched the massive body slide into the lake.

It was only much later, after she had crossed the lake and tracked the dwarves and the children to the shelter that she realized the girl was grasping something in her hand.

“Strange,” Tauriel thought. “Where did she get that seed?”

She shook her head. This night had been too much. She longed for a tankard of good, strong wine and the company of her friends. They would call her mad as she told them of what she had done tonight, but with a grudging respect despite their words. Legolas would bring up her infatuation with Kili and they would tease her. It would becoming a running joke, like many of her sillier escapades.

Or, her rebellious nature added. She had been trying to squash it for as long as she could remember.

Or she could leave with Kili when he went. They could set out to explore the world outside of Mirkwood as she had longed to do for years. She and Legolas had talked about it so often she already had a route planned in her mind. But it had always seemed like a silly dream with the prince. He seemed as curious about the outside world as she was, but in almost three thousand years he had never been any further from Mirkwood than Rivendell. She could guess the reasons for that. It had much to do with his father.

She thought much as she followed Kili's footsteps to the little shelter with the child in her arms.

Tauriel made a decision that morning, looked up at the red sky and imagined a phoenix, rising.


	2. Spinning Tales

# Chapter 2

# Spinning Tales

***

“There is much to be said for the vigour of dwarves,” Tauriel said as she inspected the wound on Kili’s thigh one last time. “You are almost recovered.”

“There is much to be said for the deft hands of the elves,” Kili said, watching her roll the bandages. “And their arts of healing.” He made binding a patient’s wound feel like anything but impersonal. Kili’s tunic was of a length that kept him decent as she worked, but she could not help but remember an earlier comment of his about pants and the contents that might, or might not, he held within.

The dwarf cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to thank you…”

“I was only doing what I thought was right.”

“Is that why you saved her as well?” Kili asked, looking down at the still form of the girl at the far corner of the small shelter.

“Yes. Although it seems my healing abilities aren’t doing her much good.” Tauriel fastened the bandage and gave Kili a pat on the leg. She moved over to her other patient.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m not certain. I’ve never come across anything like it before… It frustrates me, not knowing what to do.”

“You have a kind heart,” Kili said softly.

She thought of how she had left Legolas to fight the orcs alone, of how she would leave her people when darkness was brewing in the forest.

“And a foolish one. My impulsiveness has gotten me and my friends into trouble on more than one occasion.”

Tauriel applied salve to the little girl’s face and hands. If treated correctly the scarring would be minimal at the very least.

“An impulsive elf? I don’t think I can believe that. Even when you’re in the midst of battle it looks like you have everything planned.” He lifted his eyebrows, sceptical.

“I once took a giant spider home.”

“How did you-“

“It was a little one, no larger than my hand. It was my first mission as an archer of the guard. I pitied the poor thing. It seemed harmless enough.”

“You pitied a _spider_? If you felt sorry for it you should have put it out of its misery.”

“I told you I was foolish. And besides, I always liked the common ones. I would walk through the trees in the mornings and their webs would be glistening with dew, prettier than a necklace of the most delicate pearls. If something so ugly can still make something as beautiful as a web there has to be some good in them, don’t you think?”

“A pretty web to catch their prey, you mean.” Kili said, shuddering.

“Something has to rid the word of vermin. It’s a thankless task.”

“Fair enough. Tell me, what became of this spider of yours.”

Tauriel sighed. “I kept it in a box inside my clothing chest. Taught it tricks, fed it mice. It seemed content enough, at first. What I didn’t take into account was the rate at which it grew.”

She shook her head and tucked the girl into her blanket. “One morning I found my hairy friend gone. In a panic I confessed everything to a mentor of mine. He agreed to help. At the time I was surprised, but I realized later that it was his name at stake as well. He was the one responsible for my training and recommendation to the guard after all. Well, at least we did not have to search for long. We entered the throne room from the back. The king was seated there, in conversation with a scout who had spotted orcs near our borders. And on the back of the throne my spider was making his way to the king’s hair. My mentor acted quickly. He went over to the king and leaned against the throne. He told him something with a grave face and slipped the spider behind his cloak in the process. Why are you frowning, Kili?”

“Thranduil doesn’t seem like a king you could just walk up to and interrupt like that.”

“Let’s just say my mentor was someone of consequence. I’m sure he’s prefer it if I didn’t mention him by name.”

A grin grew on Kili’s face. “He’s the king’s son, isn’t he? The one who came with you? I can’t believe the king didn’t notice anything.”

“No names, like I said. And yes, the king did realize something was amiss. In fact, he did make a few teasing comments afterward about how spider silk might be coming back into fashion and that I might consider a career in weaving instead of fighting.”

“I didn’t realize Thranduil had a sense of humour. Even if it seems to be a vaguely threatening one.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to raise me without one. Now, my mentor promised to keep the incident a secret on the condition that he dispose of the spider. I agreed reluctantly. A few hours later he returned from the woods… with a hand that was numb for hours afterwards. Apparently my spider had not died without a fight.”

Kili shook his head, grinning.

“Do you believe me now when I say I am foolish?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to say that you have fallen from your high seat of perfection forever in my mind and right down to my level. Easily within reach.”

“You’ll have to get up onto your toes, nonetheless.”

Kili took a step closer to her. She bent as inconspicuously as she could. Then backed away as she turned towards the door.

Bard’s children entered with fish for dinner, speaking excitedly, with the other dwarves on their heels.

Kili met her eyes and raised his shoulders. He sighed.

Tonight, Tauriel thought. I’ll tell him tonight. And then we’ll finish what we started here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wanted to get this out as soon as possible, mostly to let my ff.net readers know that I'm still alive (if I have any readers left). Also, I have written more than a hundred notebook pages of this story during the holidays so hopefully that will mean steady updates. 
> 
> I'm also fairly certain I'm fairly sucky at writing what is supposed to be funny things. Tell me if I somehow managed to make you smile at least? Also Legolas/Tauriel will be coming... eventually ;).


	3. Farewell

# Chapter 3

# Farewells

_This chapter is dedicated to Jedi Kay-Kenobi, who had me super motivated to write._

***

The rest of the day passed peacefully enough. The dwarves decided that they would leave the following morning and Tauriel had thought it safe for Bard’s children to accompany the dwarves so that they might be reunited with their father. Until Bain came for them. Tauriel had hoped to spare the two children from the worst of the carnage and chaos the morning would bring with all the burnt and drowned corpses and the mourning that would accompany it. She advised Bain to take a path away from the shores of the lake for their sake. They would be headed for the abandoned city of Dale, along with the rest of the inhabitants of Esgaroth.

After they left Tauriel spent a few hours scouting the area surrounding the shelter for any signs of orcs or scavengers from Esgaroth. She wondered why the company of dwarves had been followed so ceaselessly. Legolas had not told her what else he and Thranduil had learned in their interrogation, despite her subtle probing. Legolas… With more than a little guilt she remembered him standing by the window in the small wooden house on the lake. There was the way he had said her name as he looked back at her. Just her name. Not a command and not a question, not after that first “come”. He had given her a choice, in the end. She had chosen to make it a farewell.

In all likelihood he had returned to the Hall after Smaug’s demise. Thranduil had long desired jewels from the dragon’s hoard and Legolas would think it wise to be at his father’s side. She was not pleased when she looked to the place where the forest river met the lake. There was a multitude of boats starting up the river and elvish soldiers were gathering.

To what lengths would Thranduil go to obtain what he desired? Surely he would not harm the dwarves. Threaten them, perhaps. Drive a hard bargain, probably, but he would not be driven to violence, Tauriel assured herself. Still, the doubt persisted and she returned to the shelter with an uneasy heart.

The dwarves were cooking the fish they had caught earlier in the day. Oin and Bofur sat close to the fire, discussing something in hushed tones. Further off, the younger dwarves were sharpening their weapons.

She slipped past them quietly, knowing they would offer her one of the charred fish and that she would have to accept it, if they saw her. They did not. The girl lay as she had left her, small and vulnerable in the raggedy blanket they had found to cover her. Tauriel touched the child’s hand, and once again she was surprised at how small it was. Children were a strange people to her. Her vocation meant that she did not spend much time with other females and even less with little ones. Sigrid had put the girl at about five years of age. Five. So young! The girl had barely lived and now she was already facing death.

It was a sad thing to see her so motionless after the night of the fire, when she had been so vibrantly alive. Tauriel still did not understand what had happened in the strange confrontation with the dragon. She wasn’t even sure if she believed what she saw on that chaotic night. How could she cure a wound that she could not identify? She would try, however, everything and anything that could possibly be the answer. She owed it to the girl.

She should not have let the girl go near the dragon. That was the simple truth again. She should have picked her up, kicking and screaming and taken her to safety. She would rectify her mistake, somehow. Tauriel sighed. She ran her fingers through the girl’s tousled dark hair, wishing she had a brush.

There were no signs of internal damage, of infection, of fever. There was just a cold, exhausted emptiness that Tauriel could almost _feel_. It was unsettling, like some great hunger.

She left the child to gather more of the herbs she used in the treatment of burns, as she could not do much else. Kili saw her as she left and came to her side.

“Tauriel, I’d like to speak with you, before I leave.” His voice was quiet, his expression serious. He certainly looked the part of the stern warrior going off to war, except for the silly little braids Tilda had plaited into his hair.

Tauriel nodded. There was much she would like to discuss with him as well. She found the herb she was looking for and began picking the small, pungent leaves.

Kili came to look at the herb. “Let me help. My eyes won’t do much good after nightfall, but I might as well make myself useful while the light lasts.”

They worked together in silence, both thinking of things that needed to be said.

When they were finished gathering the herbs, Tauriel chose a tree and was seated in a moment. It was a young oak, short and sturdy, with low branches that would not be too difficult for even a dwarf too climb. She was saddened by the pale and slender beech sapling that was growing underneath the oak. In a few decades the beech would grow tall and block out the sun, leaving the older tree to die slowly in its shade. Unlike the majority of her people she had no great love of beech trees, since their dense leaves did not allow much to grow beneath them. To her a beech forest was a monotonous thing.

“Tauriel?” He said, squinting into the darkness. She realized he had managed to lose sight of her, somehow. He began wandering away from her.

“Look to the trees and you will find your Silvan elf,” Tauriel said. He turned at the sound of her voice. His face fell when he realized where she was.

“Come on up, I am not so far out of your reach.

It took a while for Kili to get up the tree nonetheless.

“This reminds me of another evening I spent in a tree. Only then there were thirteen of us and wolves nipping at our heels.”

Tauriel laughed at the image. Kili looked at her, startled by the unexpected sound.

“Thirteen dwarves in a tree. That sounds like it could be an elvish drinking song.” She shook her head. “What adventures you and your friends must have had.”

“Had? I don’t think I’m done adventuring yet.”

“Good. I’d like to start.”

Kili broke into a grin at her words.

“Would you come with me?” he asked. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I’ll come. Not tomorrow morning, but as soon as the girl is better and I have found her a home.”

“Tauriel, Gi melin.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, and looked up at the stars, hiding her smile. The words had been well practised, but was earnest still. It made her feel like a child, those words. Filled her with wonder at something that was new to her. She felt eager and shy all at once, like the first time she had held a bow in her hands. “But I do know that I love you, Kili.” She looked at him and found his exuberance infectious.

He slipped something warm and smooth into her hand. She looked down at his hand, the pads of his short, sturdy fingers rough against her own. The engraved stone was heavier than it seemed. Heavier than she remembered it to be.

“A promise,” Kili said, “To see each other soon.”

Tauriel closed her fingers around it and clasped it tightly. She leaned down to kiss him. His beard was prickly, but not entirely unpleasant. His lips were still drawn into a slight smile. She could feel it in the curve of his mouth against hers.

By the time she realized what she was had heard, the all too familiar footsteps were already retreating. She broke the kiss and leapt to the ground. She slipped the rune stone into her pocket.

“Forgive me, but I believe a friend might be in need of my assistance.”

The dwarf sighed. “Well, I’ll be waiting here, then, since I’ll be needing your assistance too, if I’m to get out of this tree.”

“I’ll be back shortly.” She promised and went after Legolas, dreading the confrontation that was likely to ensue.

He was waiting for her beneath a beech not too far from where he had found them.

“I have been looking for you for the best part of the day. Have you taken leave of the dwarf?” He was distant, like he hadn’t been for over a century. Suddenly a prince again, reserved, looking at her with his father’s eyes. Hard and cold and very, very blue. Glass eyes in a porcelain face. He made a handsome puppet.

“No. I haven’t. I cannot go with you, Legolas. There is a sick girl who will die if I cannot cure her.”

Legolas turned away from her. “You have been banished, by the king’s order.” The words came rushed and harsh with anger.

“It does not matter. I did not intend to return. My only regret is that I leave my home in dishonour.” And that I have to hurt you. There it was. Another thing that would lay silent in the well of unsaid words between them.

“Dishonour. Yes, because of your infatuation with some dwarf barely old enough to hold an axe!” His voice was bitter, his back ramrod straight.

Infatuated. Tauriel’s anger flickered. She took a step closer to him, intending to turn him around and make him face her, but he moved away as she raised her hand. He insulted what she felt by calling it infatuation. Like she knew nothing of what love meant. And yet, that is what she would have used to describe him. What she would have used to describe herself as a girl, mooning over a prince with pretty blue eyes and hair like starlight.

“Legolas,” she said. “Look at me.”

He hit the tree with a closed fist before turning around. Tauriel flinched, caught by surprise by the gesture. She would never have expected such a graceless gesture from him. His knuckles were red. He brought his eyes to hers, his face composed.

“Why are you not with your king? I saw a platoon of his soldiers marching in the direction of the Misty Mountain.”

“If there is no place for you at his side, there is no place for me. I told his messenger as much.” He tightened his bruised fist.

Tauriel could not believe what he had done. There was a world of difference between leaving the stronghold to retrieve a wayward captain and refusing the King’s command.

“He will not reverse my banishment,” she said. Not even for you.

“I know.” Bitterness returned to his voice, but this was an older kind. Tauriel caught a fleeting glimpse, as she sometimes did, of a boy who had done everything in his power to win the love of his father, and of a man who had accepted that he never could. Her heart ached for both and for the words she had to draw from the well.

“Do not sacrifice your home and the good you could do for your people for a love I could never return, Legolas.”

“I will not go back on my word,” He said. “My father thinks little enough of me as it is.”

There was a finality to the way he spoke that froze the objections on Tauriel’s tongue.

“Tauriel, why…” he started, but then stopped. He shook his head, his lips drew into a line. Tauriel didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t started down the path she was sure he had intended.

“I must go, I have wasted enough time already.”

“Where are you going?”

“Gundabad. An orc was wearing its mark.”

For a moment it seemed like he turned to go, but then he changed direction abruptly and took a step toward her. He caught her wrist, pulled her off balance. And then she was falling with the briefest sensation of Legolas’ lips brushing against hers. It was long over by the time he righted her.

“Farewell, Tauriel.” He said, and was gone.

“Farewell,” she echoed, emptily and put a thousand girlhood daydreams of a single kiss away, along with her old life.

***

She returned to Kili and the next morning she watched him row away with dread in her heart. It was only then that she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Does anybody know what Kili said to Tauriel in elvish (I think?") in "The Battle of the Five Armies"? If so, I'd really like to know. Because I can't find it anywhere...
> 
> And do you like my Legolas/Tauriel dynamic? I've only scratched the surface of it, but does it have potential so far? 
> 
> I would also like to know if anyone would be willing to beta this story for me? I'd be willing to beta something of yours in exchange of course. Someone who could just give me general feedback in regards to structure, flow, character etc... would be nice.


	4. A Storm in the Distance

# Chapter 4

# A Storm in the Distance

“So I imagined that, to have power, one must first have room for the power. An emptiness to fill. And the greater the emptiness the more power can fill it. But if the power never was got, or was taken away, or was given away- still that would be there.” “That emptiness,” he said."

Ursula K. le Guin, _Tehanu_

***

Tauriel was restless. She felt torn, knowing that she should have gone with Kili, with Legolas, with the elvish soldiers who were marching for Erebor. She longed to go, to do something, but the girl held her fast. Held her with guilt and the vulnerability of her hands as they lay small and limp in Tauriel’s own.

She was drawing water from the Celduin a little way from the shelter when she heard the thunder of hooves in the distance. It came from a single rider, dressed in grey. He wore a pointy hat.

Mithrandir. The grey wizard. She had seen him a handful of times, when he had come to meet with Thranduil. She remembered, with a little jolt of embarrassment, of how she had once tried to tug at his beard when she was a child. She had been following him through a hall, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. It was the first facial hair she had ever seen. She had wondered if it could come off. _He wouldn’t remember, would he?_

He had always seemed intimidating to Tauriel, humble Sylvan elf that she was, but it was no time to be a coward.

A desperate hope had her running toward the path. A wizard might know what was ailing the child, or even suggest a cure. She watched him draw closer with some concern. It did not seem like he was willing to stop, but she refused to move from the path. He was haggard, his bearing tired.

The galloping horse came to a sudden stop in front of her, rearing.

“I do not have time for the suspicion of Thranduil’s guard!” the wizard roared, his blue-grey eyes glinting. “Let me pass!”

“Please, Mithrandir, I would ask your help. There is a girl. I think… I think she took the fire from a dragon as it died.” Tauriel realized that she must sound mad, but it was the closest she could come to the truth.

The wizard looked at her, considering. Tauriel was almost tempted to fidget beneath his gaze.

“How far from here?” he asked.

“Close,” came Tauriel’s eager reply.

“Very well. The horse could do with a rest. You must understand I cannot tarry long.”

Tauriel nodded, and led him to the little shelter hidden beneath a high bank of the river.

Immediately after they entered, the wizard went to the child’s side.

“I found her in Esgaroth, the night the dragon attacked. She went to him as he lay dying.” Tauriel started, at a loss for anything else to say. The wizard’s immense power made the small room feel even smaller.

The wizard frowned. “And what was a forest guard doing in Laketown with a dragon attacking?”

“My lord Legolas and I were tracking orcs bent on destroying a company of dwarves who escaped imprisonment from our halls. And please, I hold no position in the Mirkwood any longer, for I have been banished.” The last part came with a slight tremor in her voice. She could not let anyone believe that she was something she wasn’t. Especially not a wizard.

He looked up from the girl. He was holding her hand and had been muttering under his breath while she had spoken.

“A company of dwarves, you say. I know these dwarves. Did they make it to safety?” and then he asked the question Tauriel was fearing. “Why is it that you were banished?”

“Yes. One of them, Kili, was poisoned by a Morgul arrow. I disobeyed an order from the king to save him. He is the reason I am banished.”

The wizard lifted his eyebrows. They managed to touch the brim of his hat. “There is no resentment or regret in your voice. A strange thing, considering the price you have paid. Could it be that elf has fallen in love with a dwarf?”

“Yes.” She felt embarrassed at the amused crinkles at the wizard’s eyes that betrayed his smile.

“These are strange times indeed. Next thing we know we’ll have a cat playing the fiddle.”

Tauriel decided to change the subject. There would be many more who would laugh at her love, and many who would frown at it, but she was in no mood for jokes. “What is she?” she said, noticing the subtle change in the girl. A hint of colour in her cheeks, the way her eyes stared moving beneath the lids like she was entering a dream.

“She is a sick little girl in need of someone to take care of her; that much is obvious. What she was before that…” he shook his head. “Is of no consequence, since she gave it up for this life. Do not waste time in trying to looking for her parents.” The wizard stood, leaning heavily on his staff. “That is all the time I can spare for now. She will be waking soon. I shall return to you when this whole unpleasant business is over. Be vigilant. See to it that she gets plenty of rest.”

“Thank you, Mithrandir. I do not know what I would have done without your aid.” She followed him outside, a last question wavering on her lips. There were many others, but only one that could not wait.

“Is there any danger for the dwarves in Erebor?” she asked at last, as the wizard mounted his horse.

“I’m afraid so. An army of orcs may be gathering. But do not fear, I will do all I can to keep your young dwarf his companions safe. Until next we meet.” He touched the brim of his hat and then the horse was galloping once more.

Tauriel stood frozen to the spot, horrified. An army of orcs. Did Thranduil know? Was that why the elves were marching? Legolas was going to an abandoned orc stronghold. Had he suspected that the orcs might try to take Erebor? _Nan Belain!_ She thought, I should not have let him leave alone! And the dwarves! There were so few of them and the men of Esgaroth were little more than rabble!

Her thoughts ran on in the same thread for a long time, full or worry and regret until she felt sick with it. I made my choices, she told herself, and now I must stand by them.

With a last lingering glance to the North, she returned inside.

***

Tauriel was returning to the shelter the next day with a couple of rabbits when she noticed a series of small footprints on the path leading to the river. Her breath caught. The print was the right depth for the little girl’s slight weight.

She was not surprised to find the shack empty. Tauriel made her way down to the Celduin, worried and elated all at once. The girl’s singed dress was hung over the branch of a tree. Splashing could be heard from the shallow water near the bank.

Tauriel took a few quiet steps toward the river and the girl came into view. She was trying to catch something, a cup in her hand. The water was murky where she had stirred up the silt with her movement and the girl was covered in the watery mud. She did not look like someone who had been on the brink of death for three days.

A smile played in Tauriel’s eyes as she watched the girl. She was a sturdy little thing, sure on her feet and careful in her movements. Because of this she took a while to catch what she had been fishing for. She stood staring at the content of the cup with a frown.

“What is it that puzzles you?” Tauriel asked, choosing to alert the child to her presence.

The girl’s head shot up, startled. She stood still for a moment, uncertain, before she walked towards the elf. She lifted the cup for Tauriel to see.

“This fish has legs.” She said, solemnly. “Fish don’t have legs.”

Tauriel looked into the muddy water and saw a traumatized tadpole circling the bottom. She raised her eyes from the cup to meet the girl’s. They were green. Not like her own. It was the green of new leaves with the sun shining through them. There was the hunger too, somewhere behind the green. An emptiness waiting to be filled. Tauriel could feel the pull of it.

“It’s a tadpole. They become frogs.” She said.

“Oh.” The girl seemed disappointed. She returned to the stream and freed the creature. Tauriel wondered if she should have explained more. She didn’t quite know what to make of their odd exchange.

“My name is Tauriel. What is yours? Are you feeling all right?”

The girl nodded. “A name? I haven’t needed one yet.”

“Well, then we’ll need to find you one. I’ll see if I can think of any on the way back. There are some rabbits back at the place where you woke up. You must be hungry.”

The girl nodded again, vigorously. She washed the mud from her body and tried to put on her dress. Tauriel ended up helping her after the second time she got it on inside-out.

Tauriel started to doubt whether her patience would last until the wizard returned. She had never been very competent at mentoring the young recruits and she did not think caring for the little girl would go any better.

***

The days passed slowly. To Tauriel’s surprise the girl provided more entertainment than frustration. It did not take long for the girl to overcome her initial mistrust of Tauriel and when she did her openness was refreshing.

Night brought back her unease. Sleep evaded her and she spent too much time sharpening her blades instead. The slow, rhythmic rasp of metal against stone was a comfort to her as she thought about the elvish soldiers, the dwarves and the danger that they might be facing. She prayed to the Valar that their weapons might strike true and their armour shield them from death. It was all she could do.

Then, one night a storm broke loose. A storm that wasn’t just a storm, but the heavens shattering in lightning and gale and sheets of rain that had the Celduin roaring as its waters rose. Inside Tauriel and the child sat around a small fire. She had noticed that the girl had a certain fear of fire. No, she thought, not fear, not really. It was a wariness, a flicker of unease in her empty eyes. She would stare at the flames intently, tuning inwards before turning away from the fire suddenly, frowning. She asked Tauriel for a song and amidst the cacophony of the storm a single voice rose sweet and clear.

The next day Gandalf returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Good grief the second half of this chapter was a pain in the behind! Hope it’s readable because I had no idea what I was doing. The first version was even worse. Had to rewrite it completely. Sorry for the delay, but I had no idea I would struggle so long with something so simple.
> 
> Anyhoo, on a brighter note, the next chapter has a Legolas point of view which I can’t wait to sink my teeth into. 
> 
> In case you were wondering, the above quote is the inspiration for my OC.
> 
> Still hoping I’ll find a beta, in case anyone has some free time on their hands. :)


	5. The Last Stage and the First

**Chapter 5**

**The Last Stage and the First**

***

The little shack shook at the thrumming on the door. Tauriel blinked awake, her hand on the hilt of her knife.

“Ma i en- Who is it?” Tauriel asked, getting to her feet. The girl sat up sleepily and rubbed her eyes as the elf moved towards the door.

“Only the wizard,” a ponderous voice answered. “And his companion.”

She opened the door, eager for news of what had transpired at Erebor. Next to the wizard stood a dwarf _. No, not a dwarf_ , Tauriel thought. It was smaller and had no beard. He shuffled his feet as he caught her looking at them.

“He’s a hobbit, or halfling, if you’d like. His name is Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins. He was the burglar of Oakenshield’s company.

“Well met, mister Baggins. I am called Tauriel.” She smiled down at the hobbit, whose ruddy cheeks gained even more colour. She wondered if she should ask him about the dwarves. The girl came to stand next to her and took hold of her hand. She hardly glanced at Mithrandir before she focused on the hobbit, her head tilting to one side.

“It seems that the child has improved much. Would you say she is strong enough to travel?” Mithrandir asked.

“I believe so. Are you planning on taking you with her?”

The wizard cleared his throat. “That depends. I have some bad news, I’m afraid. If you’ll follow me outside. Bilbo, I’m sure the girl would like to ask you a few questions. She seems quite curious.” He let Tauriel past and closed the door behind him as he exited.

Outside the world was glistening in the weak light of the early morning. Tauriel sidestepped the puddles on the waterlogged earth nimbly. She crossed her arms against the sudden cold, the finest of raindrops settling on her hair as it continued to drizzle.

“There was a battle. Five armies fought at the feet of Erebor. Men, elves and dwarves fought together... And prevailed."

Tauriel nodded, desperate for the wizard to continue, but relieved at the victory. Those she could no longer call kin would be safe and the dwarves would be able to keep their home.

“Unfortunately there were heavy losses, even amongst the elves. I regret to tell you Thorin fell, along with the brothers Fili and Kili.”

Tauriel’s breath caught, her chest tightened. She clasped the stone she kept in her pocket tightly. No. It could not be. It must not. She felt robbed, like something precious had been taken from her before she had a chance to savour it. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she would not let them fall. Silence stretched between them before she finally spoke.

“Where do you intend on taking the girl?” She asked, a slight tremble in her voice.

“To the Shire, in Eriador. If you decide to accompany us there. The girl will need a guardian, if not a parent. By all appearances you seem quite capable. Or does your path lead elsewhere?"

Tauriel closed her eyes and shook her head, slowly. “Not anymore _.” I'm as lost and alone as the child_ , she thought and once again she felt like the little girl lost beneath the trees. “The Shire. What is it like?” As she opened her eyes, she could feel the moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes.

“Quite unlike anything you’re used to, I’m afraid. But it’s a kind country, inhabited by a gentle people. It's a good place for healing.” He said, his voice growing quiet.

“And a good place to raise a child,” she said, finally. "I have no desire to wander the world with only my grief for company."

The wizard’s blue-grey eyes softened. “There is no comfort I can offer you that can ease the pain of all that you have lost, but my friend Baggins and I can give you a chance to start anew. I have a horse ready.”

Despite of everything, Tauriel smiled at the surety the wizard had in his plan and shook her head. He had known what her answer would be long before he reached her door. _I don't want a new life, not when I sacrificed my old one for this one that has barely started._

“Would it be possible to take the path through the forest? I would like to say farewell to the trees if I cannot do the same for my comrades.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then said, “Yes. We can. It will save us time, but we would not have taken that road without a guide..."

“Well, I’d better gather our things then, few as they are.”

Her mind was blissfully empty as she packed. It took less than five minutes. The cup, two earthenware plates. A blanket. Her quiver, bow, knives. The sum total of her possessions.

She was vaguely aware that the hobbit had given the girl an apple and that he was telling her something about flowers. She felt the child’s eyes on her, but could not bear to turn and face her.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Is that all?” Mithrandir asked.

She came back to herself and stood, lifting the small pack. “Yes, it’ll have to do.”

The horse she shared with the girl was a chestnut mare. She was a good-natured creature with a pleasant gait. They rode past the tree where she and Kili had shared their first, and only, kiss when Tauriel dismounted and passed the child to Bilbo.

“I won’t be long, you can carry on.”

She waited until they were out of sight when before she started to pull at the slender beech sapling, no higher than her shoulder. It refused to budge. She took her knife to it, sawing as best she could, until the edge was blunted. She repeated the process with the second blade until she was out of breath and sobbing in frustration. At last she managed to sever the top of the tree and left the broken sapling without any leaves. She had saved the oak that would be a silent monument to the unlikeliest of loves.

***

The journey through the Mirkwood brought her little joy, in the end. The trees they passed were not the ones that had watched her grow. They did not bear the marks from her early practises or shelter her friends.

The child was in awe of the trees and marvelled at their sheer size. The hobbit did not share in her enthusiasm.

Bilbo was not happy when he learnt that they were to follow the old forest road. She reassured him as best she could. Still, he was wary of the darkness that lingered beneath the trees and woke often in the night. She did not need to tell them to be careful of wandering from the path.

It was on that dark path when Bilbo said, “I think we should find you a name that you like.”

The girl turned. She was seated in front of Bilbo. Tauriel could not blame her for preferring his company to hers.

“Tauriel had me try on many names,” the girl said and pulled a face. “None of them fit.”

“It would seem that she has no great love for Sindarin names.” Tauriel said.

The wizard chuckled. “A hobbit name might suit her better then. Any suggestions, Bilbo?”

The hobbit’s fingers slipped into his jacket pocket. “Let me think. How about… Rose? No? Pansy? Petunia? Iris? Asphodel? Belladonna maybe?”

The girl shook her head vehemently

“No flowers for the pretty young lady? Let’s see… Pearl? Adamanta? Esmeralda?”

“I don’t want to be named after shiny rocks.” She said, scrunching her nose.

The hobbit huffed and then fell silent for a while.

“How about Spring then?” He offered.

“Like the season?” The little girl asked.

“I was thinking of a secret pool of water in the forest a little way from Underhill. It suits your eyes. It could mean the season as well, if you like.”

“I like it. Spring.” She tasted the name on her tongue, said it slowly and clearly. “It is full of hidden water and green growing things.” She broke out into a smile, a sudden, unexpected thing in her serious face.

“I am Spring,” she announced. To the elf, lost in her grief. To the hobbit, who was extremely pleased with himself. To the wizard, who made a sound of approval and took another puff on his pipe. To the forest, grim and dark and ancient and to the wide world beyond.

***

In the dungeons of Gundabad, amidst the endless high pitched screeching of bats Legolas stood, still covered in filth and blood from the fight he had lost.

It had been a foolish decision to travel to Gundabad alone, he had known it when he set off. He had been wretched enough to not care. That had changed when he drew his bow and fired the first shot after he had been discovered.

He shifted, raising himself on the balls of his feet to ease the strain on his shoulders and wrists. The chains above him clinked. The numbness in his arms erupted into bright pain.

He looked in the direction of the stairs that led up to the tower and listened like he had done countless times before. Nothing. The bats saw to that. Eventually his tired mind returned to the thoughts he had worn smooth as he turned them over and over again.

But thoughts of escape and the reasons the orcs might have for keeping him alive did not spare him from thinking of the chaos that had been wrought upon his well-ordered life in little more than two weeks. He had been a dutiful son, a much needed link between his Sindarin father and the Sylvan elves he ruled. He had been in love and all too certain that time the only thing he needed to win Tauriel’s heart.

In a few days that passed quicker than a blink he had defied his father, abandoned his people and finally understood that he would never have Tauriel’s love.

Tauriel. Unbidden, the memory of his stolen kiss came to him in with the whirling suddenness of autumn leaves being blown about by the wind and was gone. It left him burning with shame and satisfaction. It had not been honourable, that fleeting touch with the dwarf’s kiss still warm on her lips. He had almost lost his mark, in throwing her off balance so she would not have time to resist. Then she was falling and he was catching her and her eyes were bright with surprise, her hair flickering around her face, her lips slightly parted.

He swallowed and winched, his thoughts turning towards his parched throat. He wondered how much longer he would last without water.

It was then that he saw the orc standing just outside the bars, staring at him with a frown. His narrow eyes glittered under the heavy brow.

Legolas heard the lock of his cell clicking open.

“I’ve got bad news. We lost.” The orc snarled.

Legolas chapped lips twitched into a grin. Relief flooded him. The Woodland Halls were safe.

The orc returned his grin. “Bad news for you, that is. All four of my sons had their guts spilled by your ilk. They weren’t much good… but they were my blood. Azga. Gothga. Azhur. Lúrnakh. ”

He licked his lips. Tasted blood. Thought carefully. There were several possibilities when it came to where this conversation was leading. He had a choice between a quick death or a long one. If he made the orc angry enough the creature would strike out in anger and he would be spared the pain and humiliation that gleamed in the orc’s small black eyes. A drawn out death meant the possibility of escape, however. If he would be strong enough to get out after he managed to escape the cell. If he managed to get hold of a weapon... If he could find a mount to carry him… If, if, if… Too many ifs…

He started as the orc shook the bars and jerked his head back up to face the creature. His body screamed its objections at the sudden, unwelcome movement.

“Wake up. I’m not finished talking to you…” The orc snared, his incisors flashing.

Legolas swallowed, hoping his voice would not fail him.

“It’s a pity.”

The orc narrowed his eyes to slits.

“What did you say?”

“It’s a pity. Gutting is a dirty business. If your spawn reek half as much of you, the unfortunate soldiers who slaughtered them will be trying to wash the stink from their armour for weeks.”

The orc snorted.

“I agree. It seems you still have your wits after all. Tell me, with all your elfish wisdom, don’t you think there’s a kind of immortality in being remembered by something that lives forever… I’ve been thinking, oh, don’t look so surprised, no one will remember the worthless maggots I had for sons ten years from now… If I last that long. But you, on the other hand… I believe I can… help you to remember them for me… often. How often, you wonder? Let’s say each time you look into the mirror.”

***

They had many hardships and adventures before they reached the Shire. Or so Bilbo would tell those listening to the tale of his grand adventure. A bittersweet smile would always touch Tauriel’s lips when she heard those six months condensed to a single sentence.

Tauriel watched the landscape shift into one unfamiliar to her day after day. She looked back often to the Mirkwood in the distance, to the shelter of the trees and to everything that defined home. Each day it grew farther and farther away, until one morning it was gone.

It seemed that the wargs had fled from the woods and the goblins were fewer in number, and those that were left had gone into hiding. It was the looming winter that threatened them on their return. When Mithrandir announced that they would be wintering with a skinchanger Tauriel was speechless. She had been under the impression that the man was just a legend. She had heard many unpleasant stories of the man Mithrandir introduced as Beorn, but had always been sceptical. As she spent time in his home, she believed them even less.

The girl certainly was pleased with their living arrangements. There was a beautiful garden at the back of the house where Spring and Bilbo spent hours together. Tauriel wandered the seemingly endless grasslands and, as the winter snows arrived, plains of white. She left a set of shallow footprints on the surface and was surprised at how quickly they disappeared as new flakes settled. She hunted too, in those months. They did not want for meat that winter.

Beorn’s people presented her with an outfit made from the leather of a deer she had killed and a pair of boots for the girl. Dresses too. For the girl and for her. Three of the things for each of them. In blue and green and brown. Durable things that she could not help but brush every so often, the feel of the weave strange beneath her fingers.

She thanked them for the gift. Beorn too, when they told her that it was him who had requested it. He grunted and added more honey to his porridge. Her other attempts at conversation did not go much better. She thought that perhaps he was not fond of elves.

Spring was determined for him to be fond of her though. Tauriel tried to get her to leave the giant of a man in peace, as well as Bilbo and she nodded quietly when they talked to her, perfectly acquiescent, only to resume her unwanted attentions at the next possible occasion. By the end of the winter the man, who was sometimes a bear, was taking her on little excursions through his lands and she would come back full of stories for Tauriel, cold and exhausted and blissfully happy that Beorn had shown her to track deer through the snow and positively sure that they had seen the first fawn of the year.

The girl was sad to leave when spring came and life returned to the land, but her mind was full of the tales Bilbo had told her of the Shire so she greeted Beorn without too many tears.

Once Tauriel’s initial shock of her loss had subsided somewhat, she found that the hobbit grieved too. She would ask him about his travels with Thorin’s company sometimes and he would tell her. He was a little shy at first, but he was a good storyteller and he seemed pleased by her rapt attention.

It was months before she could tell him about Kili, but from that confession and shared grief there grew an understanding that solidified into a friendship.

Spring kept Tauriel from dwelling on her loss too often. She was brimming with questions, curious and eager. There were times when the girl would unthinkingly walk into danger that sent Tauriel’s heart beating in her throat. She could think of a dozen times disaster had been averted. The time the girl had stood at the edge of a cliff, with a gale blowing. How one time she had wandered too far into the woods as she picked berries. How she had tried to braid the tail of the most irritable of the ponies, within easy reach of his hooves. Tauriel found herself warning against things she had always thought was apparent and looking for possible dangers constantly. She wondered how children managed to make it too adulthood. She found herself worrying more than she ever had. Bilbo and Gandalf assured her Spring’s behaviour was completely normal, however, and that the girl was as mild as the season she was named after.

It was hard work, but there were moments that reassured her that she was doing the right thing. At night the girl slept curled at her side and Tauriel felt strangely certain that she could keep the evils of the world away from the child in her arms. There were the gifts the girl brought her. A colourful feather, an old leaf that had been eaten away until there was nothing left but a delicate network of veins, prettier than the finest lace, a smooth black pebble she found in a stream. Each time she thought about throwing them away and each time she slipped them into a small pouch in her saddlebag, telling herself she would get rid of them as soon as she was certain the girl wouldn’t see.

Then one day they were there. Bilbo announced their arrival proudly, his arms spread in welcome, his eyes only vaguely sad.

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, time flies, doesn’t it? I apologize for taking forever. Hope the chapter was worth the wait.


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